Peace
by Christain
Summary: In the sea of war, our peace had been stolen. In the darkness of our soul, we see our peace again...from the one we thought as enemies. Vietnam's War area. Rewritten.


**Hello all Hetalia fans out there, this is my first time writing a Hetalia fanfic (not my first one wrote a fanfiction) and as my first Hetalia fic, my first interest subject would be the Vietnam war then. Please going easy on me, kay?**

**Rate: T ( for war's subjectts; slight USxVN)**

**Genres: Hurt/Comfort, War-related and little mix of Angst and Romance.**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is a proud work of Hidekaza, not mine. (but I own this fic, yes?)**

****Enjoy.****

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><p>20th April, 1975 (1)<p>

The guns stopped its noise, calmly quiet down at last. The atmosphere was silent and eerie, reflected the unlikely moments had mostly occurred here. Victory at last, but it was a bittersweet ending which was paid by both mental and physical wounds . Countless of battles, countless of sacrifices, countless of many things related to lives and preciousness...but no battles were like this before. The ground which the remaining armies were standing gave off heavy lines of smoke made by the burning tanks, burning equipments, and burning corpses. The smell of blood was too thick, it was nauseous to the soldiers as its flavor trailed from bodies to bodies and many more unrecognizable bodies, some could had been blasted because of the guns and canon bullets. The sky was gray, so gray, like any other battles had took place here, more likely rained to wash away the bloodshed...but it would not. The sky hadn't shed its tear over the dead, just like the dried the soul of the Vietnamese holding down their shivering fired guns toward their fellow country men (2).

Eleven days, eleven bloody hell days. The cheering sound was desperately needed. The soldiers were perhaps congratulated each other, but were it just grieving and mourning? Were it won over the exhaustion, the thick smell of burning steel with gunpowder and the saddening rhythms of heartbeats, for once more days had the soldier lived to taste the enemy's blood?

They finally walking place to their base, all hearts longed for some rests, and to wash all the blood from their bodies and memories. Perhaps, they wanted to erase the wound that couldn't erase from their hearts. But it forever remained as scars, like their face.

_Was victory an idealism of peace?_

* * *

><p>Viet Nam slowly opened her eyes, finished reading the situation of the battlefield, also her people. She forced herself to hold off her tears threatened to escape. She must remain strong for her people, because she was the reason why her men were fighting for. She is Viet Nam. She is their dear home, their dear land, their reason to live, to die and to fight.<p>

But wasn't it painful, to watch the Vietnamese's blood kept shedding and more bodies lying from every battles her people had encountered?

The more she thought about it, the more she felt dying from inside. Was it wrong for her to earn their peace? Was peace such an expensive thing for her to reach? Was the death of her people didn't reach to what called "freedom" and "independence"?

_Was it enough?_

_Wasn't it enough?_

_What would be enough, for my peace?_

Before she could reacted, some of the soldiers, her comrades and reason for her to remaining sane, stepped inside of the armed base.

"..._Chào_ Viet Nam!" a young soldier broke the silence as they saw their dear nation's tears lingered on her cheek.

"_...Chào_." She shyly wiped away the hot tears and formed a friendly smile. "We have won, haven't we?"

"Sure we are! It was our toughest battle yet, but we won. Now those _Việt gian_ will now feel the power of real Vietnamese! Take that you bastards!" Another young soldier said, his dark tanned face brought out a toothy grin, which made everyone in the room chuckled a little.

"Stop talking nonsense you crazy fool, take care of your wound before acting all big before Miss Viet." The remaining soldier, who seemed to be the most matured one, slightly hit the other.

"...Miss Viet Nam, are you really okay. Do you -"

"I'm very fine Dũng. I really appreciated your concern, but nothing was really serious...I just worry about you, that's all." She made such sincerity and sweet smile to calm the soldiers as she felt like a thousand needles stabbed her heart. Who did she think she was, lying to them?

"Don't worry Miss Viet Nam, our party committees has swore that victory is near now. We will kick out every single enemy's jerks and reclaimed your independence!" the energetic soldiers shouted in delight, hoping his word could make Viet Nam happier.

"Yes yes, very good Lâm. Stop talking nonsense and let's go to the medic." The mature soldier grabbed Lâm's shoulder and tried to push him out of the room.

"What? I don't want to, Miss Viet Nam is -"

"It's fine Lâm, thanks to you I feel much better now. And please take care of your wound too, Ngọc." she smiled at the scene, where two fidgeting soldier bowed embarrassingly in front of her with few chuckles and teasing lines behind their backs. This was one of the reason why she loved her people so very much.

"Then we shall make ourselves leave. Thank you for your concern." Ngọc finally walked away, gestured the others to follow him.

"I would see you at the campfire party. Ready to bring those delicious rice of yours for us too." Dũng commented. He made a polite nod before walked out, not forgetting to leave a smile behind.

Viet Nam waved at the said soldiers, until she couldn't saw their shadows anymore. Her frown returned as she thought about all of her soldiers; what bothered her so much was the age. They were all high-spirited, but they were still young adults and teenagers with the ages from at least 15 to 25. The golden age of every human.

How ironic it was for them to spend their lives on the war, and to think that they would have lived and died in the battlefield with such an early age… it made her chest throbbed hurt. The three soldiers that she had met were about 17, oldest would be closed to 18. The group had another member called Nhi – a young and tenacious liaison in her 15...who lost her life in an early battle, just two days before her sixteenth birthday. The soldiers in here had lost their innocent youth a long time ago, the youth they had were now soaked with blood and gunpowder.

_This is my fault…I can't protect my people…_

Her eyes shot open as those weak words crept into her mind. No, this was not time to feel weak, not when they were so close. She knew, and she prayed, that her people will regain their freedom and their rights once again. No matter what happened...

"And we win. Definitely, we will." She held her hand tightly, her eyes sparked with determination before she hurriedly walked out of the base and quickly prepared her soldiers some delicious meals.

_Her people were fighting for her._

_And so was she, fighting for her people._

"_For our freedom," we said._

_Because she is Viet Nam, the nation would never stumble under anyone's foot._

_The nation longed for its peace._

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><p>The army had relaxed for three days since the final battle at Xuân Lộc(3), and Viet Nam was currently watching the men happily talking and laughing. The scenery was oddly peaceful for a land through the days of war, as the sun shone bright on the clear sky and the tree were whispering their old melodies with the wind. Soldiers sang along the songs of bravery and scarifies in Vietnamese, while others made themselves busy by fixing clothes and tents. Some of the soldiers tried to read a Vietnamese newspaper but sadly had to run around finding a person who knew how to read, and a roar of applause was heard when they listened to the upcoming victory by their fellow comrades. And there was Viet Nam, smiled heart-fully at the scenery before returned to her tent.<p>

And just as she was stepping inside, something caught her attention...

"Viet Nam."

Her eyes widen in shock. She just couldn't believe the person was standing in front of her.

_That person._

"Miss Viet Nam, we spotted an impostor, and this guy wants to talk to you personally. What should we do?" A soldier spoke firmly to her, waited for action.

"...Everyone, I think we need some space here. Please leave."

The soldiers was surprised at Viet Nam's command. The said soldier's mouth gaped as he tried his reason to Viet Nam. "But Miss Việt, he is from the retreated enemy. The enemy! What if he tried to kill you?"

"I will be fine. A nation could not kill another nation by mortal force. And if he tries to do something, I'll just defend myself." She got her old revolver out, proved her point of "defend".

"But Miss!"

"Please. Leave." she stressed.

A breeze of silence occurred.

"...I understand. Please be careful, Miss Viet Nam." the said men finally stepped out of the tent, and so were the rest. Leaving only blue eyes stared at the brown ones.

"... It has been a while, Bình."

"Please make it quick... Alfred."

...***...

The two said nation was now sat in a small America style coffee table, inside the army tent, drowned themselves in the uncomfortable silence. None had spoken, nor even looked at each other eyes; only a breeze of wind was allowed to interrupting their silence.

"…So, you still keep this table. Wasn't it like… twenty years ago?" America was the first one due to his "the hero always first" attitude.

" Fifteen years. I was going to get rid of it today. But not because of your comment."

"…Right…" America bitterly bit his lips_. _

_I was hoping otherwise_.

Who was he to hope for a long and friendly conversation with Viet Nam?

Who was he to hope for everything will be normal again?

How long he had been blinded (4)? How many Vietnamese people had his soldier killed during all these years?

How much had _he_ hurt her?

How long… had she endured all the pain?

"What do you want to talk about?" Viet Nam, or Bình, slowly raised her face, eyes fixed straightforwardly to the opposite American. "According to my knowledge, the last American had left this country since 1973… You have no reason, or rights, to come back here."

"I was just delivered congratulation... It seems your freedom are near." America forced a casual smile as he sensed the dark tension had occurred. Somehow, he realized that this was his first time "read the tension". And he didn't like it.

"I find it hard to believe that it was from your –"

"It was…" he coughed, as if it was difficult to get the right words out of his throat. " It's from myself."

A long distance of silent waved between them as none found their voice to make a comeback. America remembered how hard it was to force himself came back to Vietnam, to face Bình... And to face the sins his army had caused.

The Pinkville incident (5)…

"…If you had nothing more, then leave. My men won't be hesitated when it come to American, hope you understand." Viet Nam said while she stood up slowly. Her eyes quickly adverted from America's face, made her ways toward the exit.

"Wait!"

_Click._

A cold gun barrel pointed near at America's forehead and stopped his progress to grab Viet Nam. The smell of steel, along with the small huffing breath, were hovering in the tensed air.

"I mark my world Alfred. I won't hesitate when it come to enemies."

America eye's widened in nostalgia.

"_I…I mark my world America! I won't hesitate when it came to enemies!"_

His heartbeat stomped fast, his skin felt cold, and his breath seemed to be held in his throat. The memories of his last encounter with Viet Nam, Bình, seemed to be as clear as the sky.

"_But Bình! What are you…?"  
><em>"_Shut up America…Shut up…I'm not your "Bình" anymore! I'm not in your care anymore…I'm not your goddamn toy anymore!" The teary Viet Nam held her gun toward the confused America. What he hadn't foreseen was the picture of his Viet Nam barged into his room and pointed the gun to his head._

"_Why are you acting like this?"  
><em>_Her hoarse voiced made America heart ached in pain. "…_Why?" she choked, "You ask _why?_" _Her eyes, those warm brown eyes that he used to adore so much were puffed and redden every minute. Tears were all over her slight tan skin, the skin smell like lotus in his mind. But that hand, her hand, held the gun so firmly.  
><em>_Like a soldier.  
><em>"_Your soldier…they killed my people… innocent people who brutally die! _Chết tiệt_, _Alfred_… they aren't enemies!"  
>And she busted into tears, stream and streams feel down. "They aren't…WHY?"<br>__America couldn't respond. Killed…her people? Why would he have to do such…_

"So you'll shoot me down?" The memories kept inside of him, it hurt him so much.

_Does it hurt you?_

"I only killed with reason only. Not like your soldier."

_Does it hurt you bad?_

"You could always shoot me down now. I heard you guarantee it. Shoot me down."

_Why are you like this?_

"I don't really enjoy jokes, Alfred. You clearly know that nation can't kill nation. They only disappear when its people left."

_Why can't I carry your pain away?_

"…But you can wound me."

_I had wounded you. I had brought you pain._

"I know. Like the time you wounded me. Wounded my people."

_What kind of hero am I…_

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Why Bình?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Why America? Why?"<br>__His voice soon hoarsen, upon to the shocking guilt that his army had done. It was horrible.  
><em>"…_I…"  
><em>"_It were my people! My _living_ people! I know that we are at war…but how could –_ trời ơi_… They killed them like pig and low-life animals! Aren't my people _human_?"(6)  
><em>_America kept himself silenced, he found himself stood like stone and una__ble to move a muscle. How blind he was to left this unnoticed, to such a crime…How blind…  
><em>_He disgusted himself.  
><em>"_I…I'm sorry. I don't know… such thing…"  
><em>"… _Of course you don't."_

_Viet Nam eyes were terrified to America, it left him in a panic and unstable pain. Those gaze, they were not stoic like she used to, nor pain and sorrowful like before. It were filled … with anger and disgust.  
><em>"_Of course you don't, you would never understand pain and lost. You are always the winner in battlefield, you always the "hero" and always gain victorious! You are not me, not a nation who constantly faced wars after wars, not always has to get up and forget the pain! Forget the people dying for the country, forget the people always live in such insecure, but always ready to die! For me! For me, they bleed! For me, they care less about lives and sacrificed themselves for someone like me!"  
><em>_America was speechless. This figure…this girl, had suffered so much pain, so much pain that himself couldn't image all of them.  
>"...I...I also had did something...no, many bad things. I can't stop my people killing each other, I can't stop my people dying more and more...I let my people did many desperated things...But most, I am the reason for those crimes... And have you ever wonder why?" (6')<br>__And then, he saw her. Her body seemed too slim, too thin and small…and bruised. Everywhere were bruised. He caused those, and didn't even know.  
><em>_  
><em>_How could he still being so obvious to the fact that he had _hurt_ her.  
><em>_His Viet Nam was _hurt_.  
><em>_Before he knew, the familiar Vietnamese had collapsed beneath him, cried out of her heart._

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><p>The black-haired girl turned at America, wore a questioning look at the sudden question.<p>

"Why what?"

"I had caused you the pain, isn't it? So, isn't it fair to drop a little bit of your anger at me?"

"…I don't know what you are talking about."

"…You would never shoot me." America finally looked up to Viet Nam's eyes, clearly and surely, like how he used to look at Viet Nam. And it did left the Vietnamese shocked a little, much to his appreciation.

"That gun is not loaded. You used to tell me that you hate the smell of gunpowder. It gave you bad memories"

Her eyes were widen as her hands were shaking little by little. _Good. _He began to step closer.

"I need to know, Bình . Why aren't you trying to hurt me?" America walked close to the girl "Aren't we enemies?"

"…I find myself taking no interest in hurting you," Viet Nam answered blankly as her hand retreated to a protective stance. "It will not bring my people back."

_Just like Viet Nam_, he thought. She always had a reason in mind, anything she answered were always with reason, suitable ones. But he knew it was a lie.

"Tell me the truth Bình."

"Are you trying to make me answer the question in your way? This is my reason and nothing else -"

And before she could react, America had stumbled himself toward her and locked Viet Nam in the corner of the tent. And of course, the gun had changed its direction toward America's torso.

"Please...Bình, please tell me the truth." The blond was now trapped the black haired girl, forced Viet Nam looking at America's pair of clear blue eyes. He felt remorse as this was a while since he had ever beg; it was sad, and guilty. "Please."

"… Why do you care about it so much America? Why can't you just let me be and let us finish the war that you have brought on us?" she talked back. Bitterness,he realized, Viet Nam's voice always had bitterness since the last time he saw her, in 1973 at the helicopter. Where was the calm and soothing, yet warm and full of determination in her voice that he missed so much? Where was the stoic yet sincerity and caring look she always had for her people? But most important, for him?

_When did she lose those?_

And it hit him, hard and clear. _It must be that faithful night._

"… _I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." He could feel his voice cracked bits by bits. Sorrowful engulfed him, leaked all over his mind. It killed him seeing such a heart-broken Viet Nam like that. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her… He wanted to redeem himself. But how could one undo history?_"…_Don't touch me, America."_

_What should I feel?_

"… I have lost my peace, Bình. Ever since that night, I cannot erase that piece of memory out of my head. It was… the ever first time I have never felt so…_ashamed of myself_." He could feel that hand, his hand, that held Viet Nam's shoulder so tight... it was shivering.

_So close, yet so cold._

"I'm sorry…so sorry…I should have..."

"You should have known, Alfred. You should _have._"

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><p>Viet Nam silently looked to a shadow; an American shadow slowly trailed to the open road as it left the tent. No goodbye, no farewell, nothing from each other. All in there was silent.<p>

Full of lies.

"Miss Viet! I heard gun shot! Are you…"

Tears were for the weak.

"…Miss Viet…"

Weak, weak, weak.

"What's wrong?"

_BANG!_

_A thin line of smoke pinned to the old American coffee table. The surface was broke with the force of the bullet._

"_I have gotten used to the smell of gun powder. It makes me sick…but not even compared to you."_

_Eyes faced eyes. Lies faced truth. How twisted it was, facing the one we used to hold dear with nothing but lies, pain. Especially with a heart that still beating._

"… _So, I guess you hated me so much that you didn't even want to hurt me."_

" _Make it simple, yes."_

_She no longer saw the blue sky in her eyes. The American was walking away, far away from the Vietnamese, silently. The two nations faced together, eyes directed to each other. But it didn't seem like they watched each other._

"…_Forgive me."_

Sob.

_Why are you crying?_

Sob.

_Why aren't you say anything?_

Sob.

Viet Nam clutched her shirt tightly, refused to let out the massive cry built inside her. She gritted her teeth, held back the fierce waves of emotion hitting inside her. She thought it had lost forever. She hated it.

"_I have…respected you Alfred. I always have."_

And that night, she had let her heart cried out loud, and out cleared. It was just like that day, her last day together with America. Her last day, stood aside with her dear Alfred.

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><p>April 30th, 1975.<p>

The Democratic of Vietnam had won; their final victory had brought their beloved country out off the lasting war at last. The free soldiers ran toward the entrance of The Independent Palace, they stormed into the room where the forfeited Republic of Vietnam (7) had presented and accepted their lost at long last.

"_Ông Minh, đã đến lúc ông giao đất mước lại cho người dân của nó_."* Viet Nam, as calm as ever, stood in front of the lost president, and watch the him entered the escaped helicopter. But, as the last person in the enemy government had withdrawn…she realized that she wasn't the only presented nation.

"… Congrats, Viet. You have finally won."

America.

"I don't need another congratulation America. Won't your boss gets mad if he found out that you skipped here again?"

"Well, I guess he will understand for a hero like me." America presented his trademark smile, truly and …with hesitation. That was not him at all.

_America…how long had you…?_

"You didn't smile very often since then."

His smile died slowly and replaced with a sad smirk, his Texas glasses hided away the sky of freedom in his eyes. _It didn't suit you at all._

"I already told you. I have lost my peace since that night. Don't deserve to have that back again now."

It couldn't be.

"… Smile, America."

Her eyes soften as she saw the said American eyes' widen as the last sentence that Viet Nam had said. She walked past him, her hands gripped her dear paddle tightly as she whispered,

" … _Please, smile for me_."

And with that, she went away, enjoyed the moment of her freedom finally as a soldier planted her nation's national flag at the top of the buildings.

_Don't you get it, America?_

_I have my freedom._

_But my peace…is your ever lasting smile._

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><p>1995. (8)<p>

America was awed at the sight of a new Vietnam from the window of his helicopter. The old ground which once were filled with dried soil from bombs and blood were now covered in grass and trees. The old sullen sights of the lands had disappeared, replaced them were the energetic atmosphere of a growing country.

As soon as the helicopter reached down to the ground, America had busted the door open, made a mad dash to a familiar place in his mind. The swamp was filled with such beautiful magenta lotuses, completely different from his vivid memories about this place. And there it was, at the center of the swamp, a wooden boat peacefully slide across those pretty flowers …with a figure of the girl in a green Áo dài and the wooden paddle.

_It was..._

"…It has been a while, Alfred?"

And then there he saw, the Vietnamese girl he had longed for, stood in front of him.

Smiling.

"Welcome to Vietnam, America."

America could only stood in awe, eyes widen each seconds. And then, he felt salt, wet salt…in his smile. Much more salt, filled over his ever shining smile.

"…Yeah."

…_**Thank you.**_

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><p>(1): This is the date that ended the constant war line between the Democratic of Vietnam and Republic of Vietnam, well to be more specific: The Xuân Lộc battle. It said to be "the Republic's last failed attempt to stop the Democratic of Vietnam, and also one important marker in the "Hồ Chí Minh's campaign"." It was also to be said the bloodiest battle of this campaign.<p>

(2): In this period, only Vietnam's people fighting each other, for all American's soldiers had retreated since 1973.

(3): The date that I give you at the first line of this fic was NOT the date that ended the Xuân Lộc battle. The real date was March 21st, 1975 (late by one day. I have my reason, you know)

(4): The people of America hadn't known fully the meanings of the Vietnam's War until the Pinkville Incident came up. And until 1960, a large wave of American protested the war, demanded President Nixon to retreat his army. Since America (Alfred) is the representative of the USA people, it kind of made sense for him not knowing the real purposes of this war.

(5): The Pinkville, or The Sơn Mỹ Massacre, was a war crime caused by the U.S Army. It was a very sensitive subject, for both American and Vietnamese to tell, so I won't say it more (if you interest in this, please visit Wikipedia). The Pinkville made an important plot in the dramatic turn of Vietnam's War. And also, to this fic.

(6): Yes, a sentence refered to the Pinkville.

(6'): As I researched, the Vietnam Army wasn't completely pure thought. They also used a lot of sacrifices and the most inhuman way was using children as suicide bombers. In war, it was all cruel.

(7): For your information, The Democratic of Vietnam were North Vietnam; the Republic of Vietnam were South Vietnam. But I let Viet Nam was a nation which had been torn into half, not South Vietnam.

**: In English: Mr. Minh, it's time to give back the country to it's people.

(8): The year when the USA finally accepted to forget the past war and rebuilt a relationship with Vietnam (now is the Socialist Republic of Vietnam).

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><p><strong>I also made them called each other real name, to ...made some bonding. And I found "Bình" was a really suit name for her (in this fic), since it's meaning was " Peace". Isn't it nice?<strong>

**To tell you the truth, my strong points are humor and romance only...not Angst (...or is it?). But one history lesson made me heartbroken and...there's the fic.**

**Review = Happy writer. Please review (:**


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